Nightmares
by pinetree13
Summary: "My greatest fear is that there will come a day when one of my blows will be the last you feel. I fear that someday we will unknowingly enter our last battle, which only one of us will survive. I don't know what I'd do if I was the one who survived. In simpler terms," she took a deep breath now, "my greatest fear is losing you." (One shot. Don't Hug Me I'm Scared, Padlock pairing.)


**I like this ship way more than is probably healthy, so here, have another story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Hug Me I'm Scared.**

Paige and Tony were battling once again, just as they always did. She would thrust her pencil, and he would dodge, offering a counterstrike with his sword. On and on this always went until one of them slipped up. The one who had made the mistake would inevitably fall to the ground in a pool of blood, only to reanimate moments later.

And so it always went.

Right on cue, Tony made his fatal mistake. It was just a simple quiver in his usually steady hand, probably indirectly caused by Paige. In these battles, he always had to remind himself to focus on the job at hand, because he knew that if he glanced up at her, his breath would catch and his concentration would falter for just long enough to end in death. Such was the case this time.

Paige successfully knocked the sword from his unsteady hand and plunged her pencil straight through his chest. Black blood began to pour out, just as always, and he fell to the ground. She knelt down beside him to watch as he reanimated. This was always her favorite part. She could stare at him for as long as he was unconscious, and he would never know. At first she felt a little guilty about this, but she soon rationalized it by supposing that he probably did the same thing when he killed her.

Now the wait began. The problem was that it didn't end.

Paige couldn't get a gauge on how long he had been out for—as the only clock in the house was the one now sprawled before her—but she assumed that this had to be the longest it had ever taken. Something wasn't right.

"Tony?" she asked hesitantly. It was hard for her to maintain her usual graceful tone when the possibility existed that he could actually be hurt. After what seemed like an hour, she began to get even more worried. "Tony? There's a time and a place for mucking around, remember? There's certainly no time for this!" Her tone was bordering on desperate now. Finally, she cracked. She had been too stoic for too long, and this was her breaking point. "Tony!" she cried, taking his head in her arms. "Please wake up."

However, it was she, not he, who woke. She sat bolt upright in her bed, trying to piece together what was left of her dream before it could slip away for good. She had killed Tony. Okay, nothing new there. She had waited for him to reanimate. Once again, this was not unusual. He had not awoken. With a blush, she realized that this was what had caused her to stir so much.

Paige reached a hand up to her cheek to find it practically soaking wet. Never before had she woken to find that she had cried in her sleep. Then again, never before had she had such a connection with anyone as she now felt with Tony.

No sooner had she thought his name than he cleared his throat. Oh, right, she had almost forgotten: Tony had volunteered to sleep in the same bed as her ever since he had discovered that she'd been having these nightmares. This wasn't just an isolated event, she now recalled. It had been happening for a couple of weeks now. The first time, she must have let out a scream, because he had come rushing into her room wearing nothing but yellow boxer shorts and his bowtie, sword drawn. After this had happened a few times, they had both decided it was best that they spend their nights together. She never told him what these nightmares were about, and he never asked. However, since he'd begun sleeping with her, she no longer screamed, no longer thrashed around or threw off her covers. But even his presence couldn't stop the dream itself.

After he had cleared his throat, Paige glanced down to see that Tony was still next to her, safe and sound. "Were your dreams a bit too creative again, my dear?" he joked, trying to calm her nerves. He slipped his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers.

"Tony," she whispered, shaking her head. She had to tell him. If she told him, he could help her through it, right? But what if he decided that they could no longer do their daily battles? She didn't know what either of them would do all day without them. Still, after weighing the pros and cons, she decided that this was a risk worth taking. After all, the mental stress was getting to be too much. "They're about you," she finally brought herself to say.

He sat up now, concerned. "The nightmares?"

She nodded. "My greatest fear is that there will come a day when one of my blows will be the last you feel. I fear that someday we will unknowingly enter our last battle, which only one of us will survive. I don't know what I'd do if I was the one who survived. In simpler terms," she took a deep breath now, "my greatest fear is losing you."

Tony had never heard her say anything like this before. Paige was usually so guarded, careful not to let any hint of emotion slip. But he knew she had to be serious now, because she would never joke about something like this. "Paige, love, I can't be killed, and neither can you. That is our curse. There will never come a day when we simply run out of time."

She nodded. Of course, she had told herself this over and over, but somehow it did help to hear it from his lips.

"But you can rest assured that if our roles were reversed and you were the one to die first, I would not be far behind." His voice was earnest, genuine, and she felt that she could trust him.

"And I would do the same for you," she answered with a tentative smile.

"Then go back to sleep, my dear, and know that I am right beside you, alive as I'll ever be." With that, they both laid down together, hands still intertwined. This time, though, Tony did something he'd never dared to before. He wrapped his free hand around her, pulling her closer to him, as if to stress the fact that he was still there. And so they fell asleep once more, not free of nightmares, but aware enough to distinguish reality from dream.

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